


still an imperfect balance

by ednae



Category: IDOLiSH7 (Video Game)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Multi, No Plot/Plotless
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-09-05 20:51:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16818271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ednae/pseuds/ednae
Summary: There's a lot he could say, and a lot he doesn't need to say.Mitsuki spends the day with his boyfriends. For some reason, that's the only condition necessary for things to get weird.





	still an imperfect balance

**Author's Note:**

> did you know i would sacrifice my life for polythag bc i would and i wouldn't even hesitate

“You know what’s a crime?” At that, Mitsuki dips his head over the side of the bed, forehead completely exposed as his hair dangles freely. Yamato takes this opportunity to plant an intentionally wet, intentionally sloppy kiss right in the middle of his forehead.

“Murder?” he guesses.

“My criminally good looks?” Nagi chuckles to himself, flashing a smile over his shoulder even though he doesn’t take his eyes off the manga he’s reading.

“Haha, you’re hilarious,” Mitsuki draws out, completely unamused.

“No let him speak, he has a point,” Yamato says, running his entire hand down Mitsuki’s face in attempt to silence him. But Mitsuki won’t be taken down so easily.

He sticks his tongue out and swipes it across Yamato’s palm, covering as much skin in saliva as he can.

“Eugh!” Yamato shrieks, his voice going up several octaves as he pulls his hand away and scrubs it furiously against his pants. Mitsuki grins smugly, content with his victory. “You’re a little gremlin.”

“You say that like I should be ashamed.” Mitsuki flips around, his hair resting messily over the spot where Yamato had kissed. “Anyway, you’re both wrong.”

“Actually, Mitsuki, I do believe murder is a crime,” Nagi says with a very matter-of-fact tone that has Mitsuki’s face scrunching up.

“That’s not what I mean, you smartass!” He grabs the nearest pillow off his bed and chucks it at Nagi, who’s still far too invested in his manga to dodge. He goes down with a bellowing cry, dropping the manga and clutching at his face as he tips over onto the floor.

“Oh my god!” he yells, voice so loud the other members of IDOLiSH7 can probably hear him in their rooms. “I’ve been hit! Please, when I’m gone, remember my beautiful face as it was before Mitsuki marred it with his vicious attack!”

Yamato is cackling, and even Mitsuki can’t help but crack a smile as he watches Nagi moan into the rug on his floor. “Knock it off!” he says through a sudden bout of uncontrollable giggling. “You’re so dramatic!”

Without missing a beat, Nagi springs back up into a sitting position and leans over, kissing his cheek. “Oh, but that’s what you love about me.”

Mitsuki can’t stop the heat that rises to his cheeks. Even after all this time, that L-word still manages to make his head spin and his heart beat like crazy. “C–cut it out,” he protests weakly, dropping his head into his comforter to hide his blush from his boyfriends.

“Aw, Nagi, you embarrassed him,” Yamato coos, and then he can feel a hand ruffling his hair. “He didn’t even get to finish his thoughts before he died.”

“I didn’t die!” Mitsuki says fervently, whipping his head up quickly enough that it knocks Yamato’s hand away.

Nagi nods, looking pointedly at Yamato. “Sometimes I can still hear his voice.”

“That’s such a old meme, guys, come on,” Mitsuki says. He shoots out both hands and grabs their heads, ruffling their hair, too, as punishment for making fun of him. When he’s decided that their usually perfect hair is sufficiently messed up, he drops his hands, reaching for Yamato’s glasses as he does.

But Yamato is quick and grabs Mitsuki’s hand in a strong grip before his fingers can even graze the plastic. “Nope. Not today.”

Mitsuki groans. “You’d let me draw dicks on your face before we saw you without glasses.”

“That’s right.” Yamato nods firmly.

“Hm…” Nagi hums, a mischievous grin on his face.

“Don’t get any ideas from Mitsu, please,” Yamato warns, holding out a hand to stop Nagi before he can lunge for some kind of writing utensil. “I have a shoot tomorrow.”

Nagi slumps forward. “Yamato, you are no fun.”

“Old men aren’t allowed to have fun.”

“You’d throw out your hip if you tried,” Mitsuki snickers into his bedspread.

Yamato squeezes his eyes closed suddenly and hisses through his teeth. He clutches at his hip and leans bodily onto the bed, draping himself over Mitsuki’s torso. “Ooh, ow, oh, this old man is in so much pain. I think I broke my ass, Mitsu. You have to operate.”

“Me?” he asks incredulously. “I thought Nagi was the doctor.”

Even without that verbal cue, Nagi is already rubbing his hands together. “I need a scalpel and a defibrillator, stat! Nurse Mitsuki, please change into your uniform while you’re at it.”

“If this is your way of telling me to cosplay as a sexy nurse, the answer is no.”

“But Mitsuki!”

“Yeah, Mitsu, I’m dying over here,” Yamato whines into his back. “The only thing that can save my life is you wearing a sexy nurse outfit.”

“Then die, you shitty old man.”

“Mitsu, noooooo,” Yamato wails pitifully, his voice getting softer the longer he drags it out until he goes totally silent, his body falling limp.

 _“Rest in peace,”_ Nagi says in English, bowing his head to pay respects to the newly departed.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to honor the life of Nikaidou Yamato,” Mitsuki says solemnly, pressing his palms together in prayer. “He lived a full life with beer and his roomba Musashi as his only friends. If only he hadn’t broken his ass.”

“You will be missed,” Nagi chimes in, sniffing a bit for good measure.

There’s a pause, and then Yamato pushes himself up from the bed. “Wait, did you just say my only friends are beer and Musashi?”

“I could have added Yuki-san to that list,” Mitsuki points out.

Yamato nods. “Good point. I graciously retract my protest and accept beer and roombas as my only friends.”

“Just the one roomba,” Nagi helpfully reminds him.

“Well damn.” Yamato purses his lips and sighs heavily, accepting his total defeat. But then his eyes light up and he leans in toward them like he’s about to share a secret. “But you know, it’s all right if I don’t have any friends. Since I have two cute _boy_ friends.”

 _“What?”_ Nagi gasps, placing his fingers daintily on his lips.

Yamato smirks. “Yeah, you probably wouldn’t know them. But they’re really great, super patient and understanding. Full of love, too, and always willing to help out a poor old man with his ass problems.”

“You were doing so well until you said the words ‘ass problems,’” Mitsuki deadpans.

“Oh, you’re right,” Yamato says. “They left me to die when I broke my ass, after all.”

“Not what I meant, but okay.”

Yamato chuckles and it quickly turns into an unattractive, adorable snort. “I hope you get to meet them one day. I don’t know where I’d be without them.”

Nagi touches his heart, then reaches out with his other hand, grazing his fingers against Yamato’s chest. “You are a good person, Yamato. I am grateful that we met you, and that we could have such a profound effect on your life.”

“With how strong your personalities are, I really don’t think there was any way around that one,” Yamato says, his voice much too gentle for the sarcasm he was trying for.

Mitsuki wants to say something back, preferably something snarky, but his throat has closed up and his eyes are burning. So instead, he buries his head in the comforter, trying his best to hide the tears when they fall.

But his boyfriends are stupidly observant, and he feels two hands press into his back at the same time, two pairs of lips press into the side of his head, two heads leaning against his, faces all buried into the bed.

“You’re cute, Mitsu,” Yamato says, his voice muffled by the fabric.

“I love you, Mitsuki,” Nagi says, his voice loud and clear even with his face pressed into the comforter.

Mitsuki takes a deep breath and grips the blanket in his fists before lifting his head. “I love you guys, too.”

It comes out shaky, wavering, forced through the lump in his throat. But it comes out, and that’s what matters. When Yamato and Nagi lift their heads to face him, they have equally soft smiles on their faces, and Mitsuki thinks he couldn’t have gotten luckier in his life, that all those failed auditions were only setting him up for this moment, here.

“Oh, right,” Yamato says, blinking a few times. “You never did tell us what criminal act you were up to.”

“What?” Mitsuki hurriedly wipes at his face to get rid of the tears, but he can’t get rid of the watery vulnerability of his voice. At least he knows neither of them care about that.

“You asked us what was a crime,” Nagi reminds him gently, patting his head.

Mitsuki furrows his brow. “I’m not committing any crimes!”

“Good, because that’d definitely be a problem for IDOLiSH7.” Yamato hums, thinking hard about something. “But if you did get mixed up in anything, I know how to hide a body.”

“I didn’t kill anyone!” Mitsuki insists, laughing in spite of himself. Yamato and Nagi join him, and it fills Mitsuki with an overwhelming warmth that threatens to spill tears yet again. “It was just a rhetorical question.”

“Oh…?” Nagi says, goading him to continue. He wraps his hand around Mitsuki’s fist and forces it open, threading his fingers through his and holding tight, drawing patterns on his skin with his thumb.

“It’s just that I was thinking,” Mitsuki begins, knowing how silly this is to bring back up after they’ve gotten so off-track. But that’s how it always is with them, and so he doesn’t really mind. “There are lots of romantic duets out there, but there’s not really anything for trios, you know? I thought that was kind of lame.”

“Mitsu,” Yamato says, mimicking Nagi and reaching out to hold his other hand. “You might not like what I have to say, but please listen closely, okay?”

“Huh…?” There’s a stirring in his chest as his heart thumps loudly in his ears, but the way Yamato and Nagi draw random shapes on his hands is soothing.

“We’re idols,” Yamato continues, slowly and pointedly. “We sing songs. We’re in a subunit, the three of us.”

Nagi gasps and bounces a little as he picks up on Yamato’s train of thought. “We’re the trio you’re looking for!”

Mitsuki groans. “That’s not what I mean! Sure, we have our songs, but there’s not, like, romantic trio songs, or things like that.”

“Then we shall make our own,” Nagi insists, gripping Mitsuki’s hand harder. Whether it was meant to comfort him or it was just an unconscious gesture, he’s not sure.

“Even if we never get to perform them, I’m fine with that,” Yamato agrees, resting his hand on Nagi’s knee and leaning forward to kiss his cheek. “It’ll be our little secret.”

“You’re both so embarrassing,” Mitsuki says, rolling his eyes.

“We can sing our songs in the kitchen while we make dinner!” Nagi suggests, giggling at Yamato’s kiss. He cups Yamato’s head in his hand and runs his fingers down his jawline, and then with practiced motions he lifts his chin so that their lips align perfectly in a gentle kiss.

“You mean while _I_ make dinner,” Mitsuki corrects.

When Yamato pulls away from Nagi, his cheeks are flushed and he looks a little dazed. “That’s exactly what he means.”

“I’m not allowed to cook anymore.” Nagi hangs his head sadly.

Mitsuki grimaces. “I know. I was the one who made that rule.”

“And what a good rule that was,” Yamato says, his face pinched like he’s remembering Nagi’s last attempt at a meal. It’s a memory better left repressed.

Nagi huffs, annoyed that his boyfriends are ganging up on him. “Then I will just be the entertainment while you cook. That’s my job, after all. To make you smile.”

“I think you do that plenty enough already,” Yamato says, his lips quirking upward even as he says that.

Nagi winks, and Mitsuki’s heart flutters. “It is because I am a beautiful man with overwhelming charm.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Mitsuki mumbles, taking the place of what he wanted to say, which was something along the lines of _you absolutely are beautiful and you take my breath away whenever I look at you and I can’t get enough of your presence and you’re so impo_

Well. There’s a lot he could say, and a lot he doesn’t need to say.

Nagi smiles, as if he heard every one of Mitsuki’s thoughts anyway. “Mitsuki, I love you.”

“We love our Mitsu, that’s for sure,” Yamato chimes in, grabbing Nagi’s hand. “We love Nagi, too.”

Mitsuki sighs and sinks to their level, ignoring his beet-red face and the tightening of his chest. “And we love Yamato, too,” he says, tilting his head toward Nagi to include him.

They lean against the bed, all of their hands occupied by another in a messy circle of affection. It’s something they’re used to, now, this casual intimacy, the soft looks coupled with lighthearted insults, and always the constant assurance that they’re loved.

Mitsuki keeps the tears in this time, but his chest still blooms with so much warmth that he feels breathless, as if Yamato and Nagi are drawing out the air from his lungs with every chuckle they share. And despite the description, it’s a nice feeling, and Mitsuki wouldn’t change any of it for the world.

**Author's Note:**

> i cry about polythag on twitter [@polythagoras](http://twitter.com/polythagoras)


End file.
